


Sweet Essence of the Moon

by LamiaCalls



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bondage, Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Sex Magic, butch sub, femme dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiaCalls/pseuds/LamiaCalls
Summary: There is only one more night before the blood moon, and Sam would like to get some practice in.
Relationships: Female Village Witch/Female Village Blacksmith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36
Collections: Femsub Semi-Flash 2020





	Sweet Essence of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kicksmalfoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kicksmalfoy/gifts).



Sam had come to love full moons.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead, and straightened out her shirt. The day was settling into evening, but it was still mighty hot and she had been working over a fire for most of her waking hours. She hadn’t wanted to be late with the gift she had made Mathilde. There was only one more night before the blood moon.

Mathilde’s cottage was at the end of the little lane, set back from the rest of the village, standing apart from any other houses. Not unlike the woman herself, Sam had quickly learnt when she had moved here just a year before.

She knocked on the green door. Mathilde opened after only a moment, wearing a light summer dress of purple and silver that fell to her ankles. She had her dark hair tied up and wore the same wicked smile, as always. Rumour in the village said that that smile hid a secret behind it. Sam usually didn’t pay much mind to rumours: she preferred things she could hold between the hands, things she could warm on the fire and use her strength against. But she had been wrong, in this instance. The rumours had all been true.

“You’re early,” Mathilde said. But she moved aside, and Sam walked in.

It was much cooler inside than without. The place was as cluttered as usual, with all sorts of bric-a-bric and strange objects dotting the wall. Here, a badger skull, the eyes lodged with rubies, there a mirror reflecting only swirling blackness. The place smelt of rosemary and frankincense — the latter, Sam hadn’t recognised on her first visit, but she had come to know the smells of all sorts of oils she wouldn’t have otherwise encountered. It was a stark difference from her own home, near-empty as it was, but she quite enjoyed it. It was full of personality, just as Mathilde was.

“You must be parched,” Mathilde said. She strode past the sagging sofa, on which Petunia, Mathilde’s marmalade cat, was curled, and Sam followed, stood in the doorway as Mathilde fixed her a drink.

Mathilde was barefoot, as she liked to be. She said it relaxed her, but Sam couldn’t understand it. Sam felt most relaxed in her heavy workbooks.

“I thought you were coming tomorrow night,” Mathilde said.

“I actually, well, I brought you a gift,” Sam said.

“Is that right?”

Sam shuffled in her knapsack, and extracted the shining new chains she’d constructed, at the ends of which stood soft leather cuffs. They had discussed it idly, the last few times they had met before a full moon, but Sam was not one for idle promises.

When Mathilde had taken in the cuffs, and then clearly catching Sam’s self-satisfied smirk, she said: “You’re such an overachiever.”

“Are you complaining?” Sam asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Only that the blood moon isn’t until tomorrow night, and this only makes me more eager for it,” Mathilde said with a wistful sigh. She handed Sam a glass of her homemade apple blossom cordial.

“Well, see, I had a mind that we might get some practice in,” Sam said. She hoped the pink wasn’t too obvious in her cheeks. “You said a blood moon is the most powerful kind, and so I reckon we ought to make sure you can get the most use of it. What do you think of that?”

Mathilde’s grin grew so large, it almost reached her ears. When she next spoke, her voice was all silk.

“Oh, you’re very right, a little practice couldn’t hurt. Finish your drink, and give them over,” she said, holding out her hands for the metal, before disappearing into the back room of the cottage, the place where most of her witchy rituals — and Sam and she’s encounters — took place.

Sam went over to pet Petunia’s ears and scratch under her chin, if only to have something to do. There was a bubbling excitement in the pit of her stomach, and she so desperately wanted to get started.

When Mathilde called her in, she bit her lip at the sight. In the centre of the room, stood the large stone altar, already adorned with instruments for tomorrow night’s ritual. It held candles and a small smouldering incense stick, and herbs and small jars of liquid that she didn’t recognize. Sam didn’t pretend to understand most of it — magic was too ethereal for her — but certainly, she was happy about the way Mathilde had looped the chains around it.

“Come on,” Mathilde said. “I’m eager to see you in them!”

Sam didn’t need telling twice, getting down on the floor, and allowing Mathilde to take her hands. Mathilde was, as always, gentle but deliberate with her.

Sam tested the soft leather that cupped her wrist: the restraints held fast, the metal chain it was attached to clinking against the stone. She was always so careful in her crafting, but leatherwork was not her main skill. She thought she would have to construct some bindings for her legs, for next time.

But even here, she felt wonderfully exposed, even fully dressed.

“Comfortable?” Mathilde asked.

Sam nodded. “Yes.”

Already her voice was thick with want, and she could feel how slick she’d become. There was something to being bound, being at Mathilde’s mercy, that made her chest hot. She was a woman who was used to being in control, and she enjoyed relinquishing that with someone she trusted, now so fully.

She had expected Mathilde to come to her immediately, but instead Mathilde began to wander the room, lighting candles.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, turning her head to watch Mathilde.

“You said we were practicing for tomorrow night,” Mathilde said. “I’m lighting the candles for the ritual.”

“Not that bit!” Sam said. “I thought we were just trying the restraints!”

Mathilde tutted. Even in the low candle light, Sam could see the smirk.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s time for that yet,” Mathilde said. She came over, and Sam held her breath. In one deft movement, Mathilde unlaced Sam’s trousers, and pushed aside her knickers. With a single finger, the witch slipped a finger into Sam’s trousers,wetness, who gasped in return. Mathilde traced her finger up Sam’s slit, before bringing the finger to her mouth and sucking off her slick. Then, inexplicably, she turned and went back to lighting candles. “Not quite yet, anyway.”

Sam agitated her restraints. “That’s not fair, is it?”

Mathilde laughed, that tingling laugh that Sam liked so much usually.

“Patience is a virtue, don’t you know?” Mathilde said serenely.

“You are a wicked witch,” Sam grumbled. “Really, very wicked.”

Mathilde laughed, but thankfully she had lit the last candle, and came to Sam now.

“What to do with you?” she said, voice full of wander. Her eyes roved Sam’s body with not a hint of hesitation, as if she were surveying her own land. In some ways, Sam felt like that was true. Her expression was serious and Sam could practically hear the thoughts churning. “Ah, I know.”

Where Sam’s movements were always hard and hammer-blow, Mathilde moved as if compelled by some higher power, always. It was with this elegance, Mathilde unlaced Sam’s boots, slid them off, and took her trousers too. Then she lay between Sam’s legs, and propped her hips up with her hands.

Sam had been thinking about Mathilde’s mouth all day, and what a clever mouth it was, finding all the parts of Sam that lit fires inside of Sam’s chest, her thighs, her back, her cunt. She shuddered, wrapped her legs around Mathilde. She wanted to mess her fingers in Mathilde’s hair, but could only pull against her cuffs instead, moaning and biting down on her lip.

Mathilde looked perfect there, a mess of black hair and dark eyes that stared up at her, watching Sam as she bucked and ground and groaned and tugged desperately at the cuffs. It had been a long day, and it didn’t take long for Sam to climax, messily and muttering nonsense words of desire and want and affection.

When she had found her head agfain, Mathilde was still watching her from her prime position, between her legs.

“Good?” she asked, a curl of a smile appearing.

“Very,” Sam breathed. “I thought it obvious.”

“Yes, you are quite responsive,” Mathilde said, and she sounded very pleased with herself. “Though I think, for next moon, we should think about those same restraints for your legs. Don’t you think?”

Sam could only nod. She would like to be bound totally, very much, especially if this was her reward.

“Now, for my turn,” Mathilde said, matter-of-factly.

It took only a moment for her to position herself, the place where Sam had been dreaming about her being since the last moon: straddling her face, dress falling over Sam’s face. In the darkness, Sam was expecting to have to contend with undergarments — a difficult task without the use of her hands — but she moaned when she realised Mathilde had not, in fact, been wearing anything under her dress. If she had known that earlier…

Mathilde was wet already, and with her dress on, she filled the entirety of Sam’s vision with her wet cunt. She tasted and smelt divine, as she always did and Sam plunged in eagerly. She loved the way Mathilde groaned above her, imagined her gripping the

to keep upright as Sam teased at her labia, before finding focus in her clit. But more than anything, she liked the way Mathilde ground against her face, riding her desperately, taking pleasure in her mouth.

The sounds that escaped her made Sam’s pussy clench, throaty sounds mixed with expletives and filthy words and utterances to the many pagan gods that Mathilde worshipped.

She wished she could run her hands up Mathilde’s body, tease her breasts, but instead she enjoyed the feeling of the cuffs holding her steadfast, unable to move if she wanted to — but she really, really wanted to stay exactly where she was, getting drenched in Mathilde’s wetness, enjoying the way she shuddered above her and her deep moans turned into something more desperate as Sam brought her closer.

When Mathilde broke, it was with a cry, pitching forward. Her breath came heavy, but she didn’t move. Sam took the opportunity to nibble gently at her, to apply small, minute licks, the way she knew Mathilde liked.

Unfortunately, good things had to end eventually, and Mathilde dismounted, collapsing next to Sam. Now Sam could see her, grinning and laughing.

“Remind me how I did these rituals without you?” Mathilde said. “Even just practicing, I can feel how much more potent and full of positive energy I am. Tomorrow night will be spectacular, I’m sure.”

Sam smiled. Mathilde reached out and uncuffed her. Sam had liked the reassurance of their pull, but she also relished the opportunity to hold Mathilde close and kiss at her neck, and be kissed back.

“You really are quite marvellous,” Mathilde breathed. She was always full of praise after climaxing, and Sam couldn’t pretend she didn’t enjoy it. “Marvellous…”

“Not so bad yourself,” Sam said. It was the most she could manage: compliments were, and had never been, her strong suit.

They lay in relative silence, save for the sound of their kisses, and Sam’s fumbling to run her hands inside of Mathilde’s dress.

Mathilde broke the silence, as she often did.

“Say, how are you coming along with my commission?”

Sam thought of the design Mathilde had given her a few weeks ago. A rounded bludgeon, but much too short for that. It was only the size of Sam’s hands.

“There’s been some delays, for these,” Sam said, tinkling at the chains. “And farmer Gilbert, heck of a lot of horseshoes that man needs. You said you didn’t need it for this moon, right?”

“That’s right,” Mathilde said. “Still, I would have thought you more eager to finish it.”

“Why’s that?” Sam said.

“Because I’m going to fuck you with it,” Mathilde said.

Sam gulped.

“Would you like that?” Mathilde asked, running her fingers across Sam’s exposed hip bones.

“Very much,” Sam said, and she had to swallow her eagerness. “I would like that very much.”

“I’m glad,” Mathilde said, kissing up the side of Sam’s jaw. “Now, let’s say we get in a little more practice for tomorrow night?”

“Let’s say we do,” Sam said.

She really did love full moons, and the days leading up to them.


End file.
